


Nothing Gentle

by Dark Star Of Chaos (DarkDecepticon)



Series: Unleashed Side Stories [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Missing Scene, Self Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDecepticon/pseuds/Dark%20Star%20Of%20Chaos
Summary: After Starscream fails to destroy Earth - and several of his Decepticon comrades along with it - he expects to be punished. If there was ever a time he deserved it, it's now. But with every day that passes, the possibility becomes more remote. Why hasn't Megatron punished him? And more importantly, how can he ensure he gets what he deserves?Set afterCountdown to Extinction.
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream
Series: Unleashed Side Stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809763
Comments: 16
Kudos: 74
Collections: G1 Missing Scenes Challenge





	Nothing Gentle

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt, Self Harm. 
> 
> The original idea for this story came from a Tumblr post which complained that self harm is bad, but letting someone else hurt you in the context of BDSM is kinky. I had thought to do two chapters comparing the mentalities of sadomasochism and self harm - which are not the same - but due to some creative difficulties, I've opted to settle for a one-shot.
> 
> The title, suggested by [grayseeker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayseeker/pseuds/grayseeker), is courtesy of the oh-so-hilarious Optimus Prime.

"Hey, Prime, what do you think Megatron's gonna do to Starscream?"

"Nothing gentle, I would say."

**Bumblebee and Optimus Prime,**

**_Countdown to Extinction_ **

  
  


Starscream staggered through the darkened halls of the _Victory_ , driven onward by the heavy hand gripping the back of his neck. Megatron's pace wasn't especially hurried, but it was still too fast for Starscream after he'd just crashed to Earth from the planet's upper atmosphere. He stumbled, almost falling, and gave a choked whine when the scruff-hold kept him upright.

"Megatron, please, I c-can explain-!"

"I'm sure you can," Megatron interrupted, far too calmly. "But I don't want to hear it."

Starscream whimpered, clawing nervously at the fingers digging into his neck. He couldn't see where they were going with the tight hold forcing him to hunch over, but he doubted it would be anywhere good. Considering he'd just tried to destroy Earth, without regard for the Decepticons still present there, he would be lucky if Megatron didn't kill him. It might not be on purpose - if Megatron truly meant to end him, he would do it where everyone could see - but Starscream was already in rough shape, and they didn't currently have a medic stationed on Earth. He didn't know how much more he could handle.

Maybe he deserved that, though. To be beaten and left to slowly bleed out. Alone.

A tremor ran through his frame. He nearly fell again, but Megatron hauled him back up. They came to a stop a few moments later, and on the edge of his vision, Starscream saw Megatron entering a code into a keypad.

"Do you need medical attention?"

The question was unexpected, and so out of place that Starscream could only assume it was some kind of trap. Either that or Megatron was planning to lock him up and didn't want him dying before his release. That made more sense.

"N-no," he replied, trying not to flinch when a door hissed open.

"Good." Megatron shoved him into the room and he finally collapsed to the floor. Starscream curled in on himself, braced for more pain, but there wasn't so much as a footstep to suggest that it was coming. He twisted to peer over one lowered wing. Megatron was still in the hallway, watching him.

"Get cleaned up," Megatron ordered, stepping back. "I suggest you make yourself scarce for a few days."

The door slid shut again, cutting off what little light spilled in from the hallway.

* * *

It took entirely too long for Starscream to realize he was in his own quarters, not some closet somewhere. When he did, he chose to leave the lights off and dragged himself onto the berth, too tired to even check his injuries. He'd been able to use his antigravs to soften his crash, so the damage was considerably less than it could have been. His self-repairs should be able to handle it. And if not, he couldn't find it in him to care.

He awakened several hours later to a sharp bit of rock lodged inside a seam. For a while he tolerated it, unwilling to move. Eventually he roused himself enough to pick out a few of the more annoying fragments before curling up again. He wanted to retreat back into the oblivion of recharge, but now that the edge had been taken off of his exhaustion, his mind refused to settle.

He’d thought Megatron was dead. The shuttle and its load of energon had exploded in Earth's atmosphere, just like whatever had knocked Starscream from the sky. There should have been no way he could have survived, and yet…

Starscream wasn't sure how he felt about it. Angry, yes. There was anger. But he didn't know if he was angry because Megatron had somehow survived or because he had almost been left alone again.

* * *

Starscream thought about Skyfire a lot during the periods of numb wakefulness that came between snatches of sleep. He didn't want to. The betrayal was too sharp, and the grief, too heavy. But he couldn't stop playing back the memories over and over, dwelling on every harsh word he'd said and every shot he'd fired. And on Skyfire's frame sprawled unmoving across the ground after two of those shots.

He told himself it wasn't his fault. Skyfire was the one who had defected just because he didn't like the way the Decepticons did things. Skyfire was the one who had taken all of Starscream's pain and grief and cast them aside like they meant nothing. Starscream had searched half the planet for Skyfire, had engineered the entire Arctic mission as an excuse to look for him, had never _forgotten_ him despite the millions of years that had passed.

And Skyfire couldn't even trust him enough to stay.

It had seemed like a fitting revenge to take control of the Autobots' precious humans and force them to make energon. Humans had, after all, been the thing that caused Skyfire's loyalty to waver in the first place, as well as the reason for that first warning shot. But Starscream hadn't found the situation as satisfying as he'd expected to. Hurting Skyfire, even indirectly, felt… wrong.

It shouldn't have mattered when he'd already hurt Skyfire so many times. When he'd shot him more than once, and nearly _killed_ him more than once. But somehow, instead of getting easier, it only made him feel worse every time.

A part of him wished Skyfire had died in that first crash, so long ago. It would have been preferable to being discarded and left to wonder if Starscream had ever truly meant _anything_ to him. Or if their entire relationship had been nothing but a lie.

In a way, wishing Skyfire dead helped. The pain was a little easier to bear if Starscream truly was the monster Skyfire seemed to have decided he was.

* * *

After two days spent alone in his quarters, Starscream discovered that the door wasn't locked. Several long minutes after that were spent perched on the foot of his berth, staring at the door and fighting to still his sudden trembling.

He'd thought being locked up and left without energon was his punishment for leaving the Earth-stationed Decepticons to die. That he might be let out in a week or two after claustrophobia and hunger had taken their toll on him. But that couldn't be the case if he could come and go as he pleased, could it?

Maybe it was a trap, and trying to leave his room would result in worse punishment. Or maybe Megatron wanted him to recover from his crash before the real punishment so he could survive it. Anything would make more sense than the possibility that his actions just wouldn't have consequences. _Everything_ had consequences.

Starscream eventually gathered the courage to venture from his quarters. He didn't want fuel, despite his low levels, but Megatron had explicitly told him to clean up. If he was caught wandering around, he might be able to get some leniency if he was doing what he'd been told to do. Unless he got in trouble for not doing it sooner.

He made it to the washracks without incident, but he only stayed long enough to rinse the dust from his plating. It felt like too much effort to do more, and he wanted to get back to his quarters as soon as possible. The trip didn't do much for his appearance, as dented and scraped up as he was, but at least he had technically done what he'd been told.

* * *

The longer he was left alone, the more restless Starscream became. His isolation had been tolerable as a punishment, but as far as he could determine, that wasn't what this was. He hadn't been reprimanded for his visit to the washracks, or for a late-night venture to the rec room for fuel. There seemed to be no reason to stay in his room beyond his own reluctance to leave.

It made no sense to him. There had to be _some_ sort of punishment, there always was. Megatron would never allow such a massive crime to be forgotten so easily. So why was this taking so long?

Finally, Starscream couldn't take it anymore. If going to the Command Center got him yelled at - or worse - at least the wait would be over.

But it didn't happen. He received a few dirty looks from the other Decepticons, but no one commented on his presence. Even Megatron only scrutinized him for a moment before carrying on like Starscream's absence had been solely a result of his injuries.

It made no sense.

* * *

Surface damage had a tendency to itch when it healed. Starscream knew better than to mess with the rough patches on his plating, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He still spent most of his time in his quarters, of his own volition now, and inactivity didn’t come naturally to him. If he wasn’t moving, his hands invariably found whatever ache was most persistent and tried to rub it away.

Lately, he didn’t seem to have much energy for movement.

He wasn’t hurting himself, though. Sometimes he was roused from his thoughts when his fingers dug into a wound, but only when he was completely distracted from what they were doing. He wasn’t actively scratching or doing anything else that would impair healing. There was some pain when he pressed down too hard, but it faded quickly.

He still hadn't been punished for what he'd done. Megatron was acting like the matter was closed and they had already moved on, but it _wasn't_ . It couldn't be, not without the proper conclusion. Starscream was _always_ punished for his mistakes, unless he could talk his way out of it.

Well. Almost always. Megatron hadn't held him responsible for their failed expedition in the Arctic, even though it had been Starscream's partner - former partner - who had ruined it. At the time it had made sense; Megatron himself had pointed out that Starscream couldn't have known Skyfire would betray them. But in retrospect it felt… strange. Wrong, just like trying to hurt Skyfire felt wrong.

How would Skyfire feel if he knew that Starscream was being allowed to get away with nearly destroying Earth? Would he agree that Starscream didn't deserve to get off so easily? The Skyfire he'd known wouldn't have, but he'd never have thought Skyfire would leave him so easily either. Maybe he would be upset that Starscream was getting away with it. Just like he'd gotten away with nearly killing a mech he claimed to care about.

Pain flared in Starscream's side, bringing a merciful end to the thought. He withdrew his hand with a wince and rolled over on the berth, protecting his damaged plating from further harm. His fingers drifted to the wing now folded under his body and began to trace over a long scratch while his mind wandered again.

* * *

It had been over a week now. Starscream hadn't spoken more than a few words to anyone since being dragged back to base, and no one seemed inclined to change that. The collective cold shoulder was almost a relief at first, because it meant they hadn't forgotten what he did. He deserved worse, but it was better than nothing.

And then it wasn't enough. He spent every brief exchange he had with someone waiting for them to comment on his behavior, to attack him either physically or with words. But all he got was the occasional snide remark about how he'd run off with a human, and left everyone else to clean up the base after the Autobots wrecked it.

Starscream had completely forgotten about Dr. Archevil. By now he was probably dead, either by Shockwave's hand or from natural causes. It was unlikely that anyone on Earth would consider it a loss.

The same could probably be said for Starscream. He couldn't imagine that anyone would miss him if he was gone, whether that meant dead or just absent. Skyfire, the one mech he’d never expected to be hurt by, had left him without a backward glance. Why should he expect anything more from bots who didn’t even like him?

It was getting harder to keep those thoughts at bay as his injuries healed. Digging his fingers in didn't hurt as much now, and didn't clear his mind as quickly. It was harder to stop too, when he caught himself doing it. He still wasn't _hurting_ himself, at least not on purpose, but he did leave marks sometimes. It wasn't much, just thin gray scratches where the chromites had been damaged. They usually faded within a few hours.

But that was how it started, wasn't it? First it was nothing, and excuses were easy to make until nothing became something. Starscream didn't like to think he could be the kind of mech who would deliberately hurt himself, but the longer this went on, the more he felt the way he had before trying to destroy Earth. Helpless. Detached. Out of control.

He was definitely the type to hurt himself. He didn't want to, and knew he would only feel worse if he did it, but he didn't think he could stop himself. Not indefinitely.

After all, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from lashing out at an entire planet. How could he be expected not to turn on one mech who deserved it?

* * *

He had an idea.

It probably wasn’t a good one, but that was fairly typical of Starscream’s ideas. It didn’t have to be _good_ as long as it worked. Because he couldn’t keep this up. He needed to set things right, to get what he deserved. The only way he could move on from what he’d done was to finally be punished for it.

He had a couple options for that. One was to simply give in to the out of control feeling and do it himself, but that wasn’t guaranteed to work. He could go too far or back out too soon. Worst case scenario, it wouldn’t even make him feel better. That seemed like the most likely outcome. He needed to be reined in and kept from hurting anyone else, including himself.

That left the second option: get Megatron to do what he should have done in the first place.

It was easier said than done. Starscream couldn’t exactly walk up to Megatron and demand to be beaten. He wasn’t _that_ crazy. That left trickery, whether it was simple provocation or… Something else. There was another possibility, one that didn’t involve making Megatron mad. It would be harder to pull off, but it might be more effective. He couldn’t be certain, since he’d never tried it before.

Starscream did his best to behave more normally for a few days prior to making his move. Megatron would be suspicious if he “recovered” too quickly. Thankfully, it was easier to focus on his work and interact with the other Decepticons now that he had a plan. It was a small improvement, but it was enough to make the wait tolerable.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he paid a visit to the washracks to finally clean up properly. His injuries had been slow to heal thanks to his recent insomnia and the lack of proper care, but they were far enough along that he could buff out all but the deepest scratches. His armor was mottled with darker patches where the chromite layer was thin, and he couldn’t really reach his back, but it was the best he could do. Hopefully it would be sufficient.

* * *

Starscream fell backward onto his berth with a groan that turned into a curse when something small and hard jabbed him between the wings. He shoved himself upright and twisted to glare at the top cover. It was strewn with bits of rock and dirt from his first few days of isolation. For two weeks he’d just been lying in the grit, even after washing the worst of it from his frame. In retrospect it was disgusting, but at the time he just hadn’t cared.

Well, he certainly had a reason to care now.

The thought chased off his momentary irritation, allowing his anxiety to resurface. He pulled in a slow ventilation then quickly gathered up the sullied bedding, doing his best not to scatter dirt everywhere. He shoved the bundle under the berth, then rose to his knees to consider the thin cover that remained. It would be fine to leave it like that, probably. He could make some excuse if Megatron found it necessary to comment on it.

Megatron. Frag.

Starscream shuddered, resting his forehead against the edge of the berth. Sometimes he hated getting what he wanted. Granted, he didn’t have _exactly_ what he wanted, not yet. And Megatron hadn’t specified _why_ he wanted to meet here, though he didn’t really need to. More often than not, a retreat to private quarters meant interfacing. There was always a chance that he had something else in mind, but it was slim enough not to be concerned about.

Starscream was at least close to getting what he wanted. Now he just had to be brave enough to see it through.

He climbed to his feet, resisting the urge to throw himself back down on the berth, and moved to his desk instead. Megatron hadn’t said exactly when he would show up, but it would be better to be found doing something useful than lying around waiting. Even an illusion of productivity was better than nothing.

Except Starscream was the one who had expressed interest first, however subtly, so maybe not.

He turned away from the desk to pace the room, arms folded in an effort to avoid picking at his armor. He didn't want to look too eager or Megatron would be suspicious, but if he was too preoccupied with something else, Megatron might think he'd changed his mind. Normally Starscream had no trouble striking a balance of bored impatience when he was made to wait, but then, normally he wasn't preparing to try and trick Megatron into hurting him.

He winced, shaking off the thought. "Trick" was too harsh a term. Megatron was always rough when they fragged unless one of them was injured, and Starscream usually came away with some new ache or dent. He was just... hoping to take things a little further this time, that was all.

The door slid open. Starscream froze, staring at the entryway. Megatron looked back at him, then his gaze flicked away, studying the room as though he was searching for something. Starscream folded his arms, suddenly wishing he’d done more to fix the berth, and grumbled, “You took your time.”

Megatron’s attention shifted back to Starscream. “You don’t appear to have been particularly busy,” he noted. He stepped into the room, allowing the door to slide shut behind him. Starscream dug his fingers into his arms as his anxiety climbed.

“I’ve been stuck at the bottom of an ocean for two weeks,” he said stiffly. “Excuse me for being restless.”

“Nothing was stopping you from flying,” Megatron pointed out. Starscream wanted to shriek that that was exactly the problem, but then Megatron’s optics narrowed, and his voice died. “Unless you were more badly injured than you let on?”

Starscream rolled his own optics and turned to stalk towards the berth, wings held rigid to keep them from shivering. “All I said was that I didn’t need medical care. And as you can see, I was fine without it.”

“What I can see is that your wings are still messed up,” Megatron said, reminding Starscream that he hadn’t been able to reach the backs. He hunched his shoulders, gripping his arms until they ached, but the sound of approaching footsteps kept him from doing more than sending a sour look over his shoulder.

“Which has nothing to do with the extent of my injuries and everything to do with the fact that I can’t _reach_ them.” He flicked the appendages for emphasis. The displaced air returned immediately, alerting him to Megatron’s proximity a scant second before a hand closed on the edge of one wing.

“And of course you couldn’t be bothered to ask someone for help.” Megatron’s free hand pressed flat against his other wing, sliding out over the rough surface. It didn’t quite hurt, but the deepest scratches were still sensitive enough that it wasn’t pleasant either. Starscream pushed his wing into it anyway, and bit his lip when the sensation edged towards pain. So close…

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly popular right now,” he said. “Would you let someone behind you knowing they might just take the chance to make things worse?”

Megatron snorted. “I let you near me, don’t I?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Starscream scoffed. “I forgot who I was talking to.”

“Insolent.” Megatron released him with a small shove, steering him towards the berth. “Sit down. And relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

That wasn't what Starscream was hoping for, but he could work with it. He obediently sank down on the edge of the berth, but remained tense as Megatron joined him.

“I’m not worried,” he said, feigning offense. “Like I said, I haven’t flown in two weeks. That’s all this is.”

“And your first thought when you were feeling better wasn’t to remedy that?”

Starscream hesitated. “I- I have other needs too, you know. Maybe I just wanted this more.”

He reached out to brush his fingers over the barrel of Megatron’s fusion cannon; the closest he dared come to touching Megatron himself without permission. His boldness was rewarded by hands settling briefly on his shoulders, then trailing down his arms. They cupped Starscream's hands, turning them palms-up, and he glanced down at himself. For one irrational moment he expected to see something wrong - energon, perhaps, or some other sign that he'd been clawing at his arms. But there was nothing.

"Wings aside, you do look better," Megatron said. His gaze roved Starscream's frame, but it felt almost clinical, like he was looking for traces of damage. It made Starscream far more uncomfortable than desire would have.

"I hope you plan to do more than look," he muttered. "I could still change my mind about that flight, you know."

"I was under the impression you liked being looked at. Or did you have some other reason for all of this?"

Megatron released Starscream's hands in favor of his wings, tracing the faint, dark lines where scratches had been buffed out. Starscream shivered, torn between rejecting the undeserved gentleness and wanting more of it.

"Some other reason for… What?" he asked. "Taking care of myself? Buffing isn't just about vanity."

Megatron's expression darkened. "I know."

He placed a hand on Starscream's chest and pushed. Starscream resisted briefly, unsettled by the look on Megatron's face. Then he repressed his instinctive reaction and obeyed the silent order to lie down. There was no room for him to pull his legs onto the berth, but Megatron didn't seem to care. He just shifted closer, one hand still planted on Starscream's chest, and Starscream fidgeted as the other settled on his side.

"You can hide a lot of damage by buffing it out," Megatron observed, stroking the smooth plates under his hand. “But hiding it doesn’t mean it’s gone.”

He pressed down on a dark patch on Starscream's hip. Dull pain flared across the still-healing metal, making Starscream flinch. Megatron eased back, and for a moment his hands just rested on Starscream's frame before moving to his shoulders again.

"I've known bots to take advantage of that," Megatron continued before Starscream could demand an explanation. "You can hide any surface wound if you just buff it out afterward, as long as you didn't go past the chromite layer."

His hands traveled down Starscream's arms a second time, pressing firmly. Once again, Starscream felt a rush of irrational fear, like Megatron would somehow know he'd been digging his fingers into his arms just by touching him.

"You- You're talking about bots hurting themselves, aren't you?"

Megatron held his gaze evenly, now holding his wrists as though to restrain him. "I am."

"And what? You think _I've_ been…?" Starscream shook his head, feeling suddenly nauseous, and raised himself on his elbows. "I'm not that kind of bot! I wouldn't- I'm not weak like that!"

"You've been completely isolated for two weeks-"

"Because you told me to!" Starscream interrupted. He tried to jerk away, but Megatron kept his wrists pinned. "You _told_ me to stay away. And even if you hadn't, do you think any of them would have wanted _anything_ to do with me? After what I _did?_ "

Belatedly, he remembered that his legs were free. He kicked awkwardly, finding only empty air for a few seconds before clipping something. If it was Megatron, he didn't react.

"I suggested that you should keep your distance for a few days. I didn't tell you to do anything."

"That's even worse!"

Starscream twisted sharply and the world flipped. For the briefest of moments, he was falling. Then he slammed to a stop, limbs curled under him, and pain jarred through his half-healed frame. He raised his head slowly, dazed by the sudden change, and stared at the berth next to him.

A hand settled on his back. He flinched and craned his neck, peering up at where Megatron was still seated. His face was unreadable, but the hand running over Starscream’s plating was unbearably gentle. Starscream swallowed hard and let his head drop, tanks churning. His whole body was shaking.

"Why?" he asked, soft and weak.

"You'll have to be more specific," Megatron said drily.

This wasn't how this was supposed to go. Starscream shut off his optics, fighting to control his shuddering vents, and didn't reply. He didn't want the hand rubbing his back, but he was too drained to shrug it off.

Eventually it withdrew on its own and Megatron said, "Get back up here.”

Starscream considered refusing, but that sounded like more effort than just doing it. He forced himself from the floor and Megatron motioned to the berth. "Lie down."

Again, Starscream hesitated. But there was nothing Megatron could do to him that he hadn't been hoping for, including hurt him. So he obeyed that order too, and flopped down on his back even though he only really wanted to curl up again. When he was settled, Megatron's hands returned to his sides.

"Why are you here?" It wasn't the question Starscream had tried to ask earlier, but it was probably safer.

"As I recall, you were the one who wanted me here," Megatron replied. His hands moved higher, skimming over aching patches to probe uninjured areas. Starscream watched him for a moment, then sighed.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you weren't trying to cover up more damage than what your crash caused."

Starscream had guessed as much, but the confirmation that Megatron really thought he'd been hurting himself stung. Then he remembered digging his fingers into the wounds and looked away, tanks clenching with shame.

"You won't find anything."

Megatron grunted, moving on to his wings. "Humor me."

Starscream sighed again and turned his gaze to the ceiling, resolved to wait out the examination. Maybe when Megatron was satisfied he would leave. He probably would, actually. Starscream certainly wouldn't be interested in fragging a damaged mech who didn't even have the energy to move.

He mentally crossed off his failed plan for punishment and considered the only option he had left: provoking an attack.

Primus, he was so tired.

"What are you thinking about?"

He refocused on Megatron. The hands on his wings had stopped moving, and their owner was scrutinizing him carefully. Starscream wasn't about to tell the truth, so he seized on the first thing to cross his mind.

"Is this why you really came here? Just to see if I've been hurting myself?"

"You say that like it's a trivial thing."

For some reason the words felt like a punch to the chest. Starscream sat up, dislodging the hands from his wings, and backed out of reach.

"Why are you acting like nothing happened?" he demanded. "Why are you acting like I didn't- Like I wasn't trying to- I would have killed all of you! I almost _did!_ And I haven't done _anything_ since then except sit around and- and-"

His back hit the wall. He drew his legs up and tucked his face against his knees, unsure whether he was trying to protect himself or block out the world.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered, voice shaking. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"To be treated with a modicum of concern, you mean?"

Starscream flinched. "You didn't even punish me first. How can you do this when I haven't even- when I wasn't-"

He heard Megatron moving closer, but he kept his head down. He was afraid of what he might see if he looked.

"What about that is bothering you? Are you still waiting to be punished?"

Starscream whimpered, frightened by how easily Megatron had guessed, but nodded.

Fingers brushed his head, petting him lightly. “Starscream, if I was going to punish you, I already would have. Have you ever known me to put it off so long?"

"That's not-" Starscream bit back the rest of his protest and shook his head wearily. "No."

"Then why, after all this time, are you still worrying about it?"

"Because…" Starscream hesitated, chewing on his lip. "I don't understand," he admitted at last, hating how small his voice sounded. "Why didn't you punish me?"

"It seems to me that you're in enough pain already." The berth creaked as Megatron shifted a little closer, enough that Starscream could feel the heat of his frame. But the hand on his head was still petting him carefully, so he stayed still while Megatron continued.

"I will admit I lost patience with your apathy during our most recent operation, but don't think I didn't realize you were struggling. Had I known you would recover your strength so quickly, and use it in the way you did, I would have done more to keep you in check."

"I thought you were dead." The words slipped out before Starscream could stop them. He bit his lip again, hard enough that he tasted energon, but he barely felt the pain.

"So you saw an opportunity and took it? Or," Megatron lowered his voice, "did you just not care anymore?"

Oh no, Starscream had cared. If he hadn't he wouldn't have gotten so angry, wouldn't have tried to destroy the planet he hated so much.

He had cared far too much.

After a few moments Megatron seemed to realize Starscream wasn't going to answer because he spoke again, his voice still quiet. "Do you think you deserved to be punished?"

A small, choked sound escaped Starscream's throat. He raised his head just enough to stare over his knees at Megatron, who smirked back at him.

"There's no need to look so surprised. If you had been hurting yourself there would be a reason for it, and you seem to have spent this entire time obsessing over punishment. It wasn't hard to guess." The smirk vanished. " _Have_ you been hurting yourself?"

Starscream averted his gaze. "I already said I'm not like that."

"And I don't believe you."

The hand petting him fell to the side of his face, fingers trailing down his cheek before slipping under his chin. Starscream was too tired to resist as they tipped his face up. The thumb swept over his bitten lip, wiping away energon. It stung, but the leaden weight of shame in his belly was worse. He pulled free to hide his face again and shut off his optics, silently cursing his own lack of self control.

"Is this really the only reason you came here?" he asked weakly. "To humiliate me?"

Not that he didn't deserve the humiliation. It seemed like the only punishment he would receive tonight.

"I could just as easily ask why you wanted me here if you're so certain you only deserve pain."

Panic clenched in Starscream's chest. If Megatron knew what he'd been hoping to get out of this encounter, he would have a whole new reason to hurt him. And it would probably be in anger, which meant it would be terrifying, and-

He should just admit it. If it would get him what he wanted in the first place, he should just admit it and accept the consequences. But the only sound he could force out was a shaky whimper, and disgust twisted in his tanks. He was such a coward.

The hand returned, stroking the side of his face without any further attempt to force it up. After only a few moments Starscream gave up and leaned into the touch, dentea still worrying at his bleeding lip. Seconds passed without another word spoken, then Megatron sighed.

"Starscream, look at me."

Starscream tensed but obeyed, peering over his knees again. Megatron twisted to face him properly, and both hands returned to his shoulders.

"Enough," Megatron said firmly. "You've hardly left this room since I brought you here, you haven't been refuelling despite your injuries, and now you're hurting your mouth. Don't you think you've been punished enough?"

Starscream self-consciously released his lip, but shook his head. "I don't feel like I've been punished at all," he whispered.

"But you think you deserved to be."

He ran his glossa over his lip and didn't reply.

Megatron studied Starscream with narrowed optics, then released his shoulders, though his arms remained open. "Come here."

Starscream raised his head, wings scraping against the wall behind him as they lifted too. He glanced between Megatron's face and chest, anxiety and self-reproach warring with longing.

Longing won. He uncurled and crawled into Megatron's lap, huddling against his chest. Arms closed behind him, loosely at first, then more tightly when he stopped moving. Trapping him there. Starscream laid his head on Megatron's shoulder, utterly exhausted.

"Troublesome thing," Megatron murmured. "Why in Primus' name do you still need to be punished when you're already in so much pain?"

"It's not the same," Starscream said. "If… if I hadn't felt this way, maybe I wouldn't have…"

"Maybe not," Megatron agreed. "But do you really think being beaten for it would make you feel better?"

"I could do it again. If I know I can get away with it-"

"Get away with it?" Megatron flattened his hand against one lowered wing, stroking the damaged surface. "Earth is still intact, despite your efforts, and the only thing you got from it was injuries that are still healing. By what definition did you 'get away' with anything?"

Starscream pressed his lips together to keep himself from biting them again and hooked his fingers over the edge of Megatron's chestplate, clinging as subtly as possible. "I… I don't know."

"Then perhaps you should consider the possibility that you didn't." Megatron's hand left his wing to settle on the back of his neck, warm and heavy. "As for doing anything like that again, rest assured that I will be keeping a _very_ close optic on you until your behavior normalizes. Don't expect a chance to try."

"I won't," Starscream mumbled. His optics were starting to burn. He shut them off and tried to ignore it, focusing on the arms wrapped around him instead. Holding him still. For now, at least, he couldn't go anywhere or do anything. Not to himself, not to anyone else.

Starscream let out a shaky ventilation and slowly relaxed, only half listening while Megatron said something about cleaning up his wings. This wasn't how he'd wanted the night to go, but he was too tired to keep arguing, or to struggle with the question of whether he even deserved punishment. He knew he didn't deserve this… this _concern_ , but if Megatron wanted to be gentle with him, Starscream couldn't do much to stop it.

He didn't mind that as much as he probably should have.


End file.
